Spy Games: Birthday Games

by Mia Downing

  Table of Contents

  Spy Games: Birthday Games

  Copyright

  Dedication

  PRAISE FOR AUTHOR

  Spy Games: Birthday Games

  About the Author

  Spy Games: Trained For Seduction

  Spy Games: Lethal Limits

  Spy Games: Birthday Games

  by

  Mia Downing

  Book 1.5 of the Spy Games Series

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Spy Games: Birthday Games #1.5

  COPYRIGHT © 2012 by Mia Downing

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: miadowning007@hotmail.com

  Cover Art by Diana Carlile

  www.designingdiana.blogspot.com

  Edited by Diana Carlile

  Visit Mia at www.miadowning.blogspot.com

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  Missy and Bookie, thanks for being awesome cheerleaders.

  Diana and Lucy, thanks for doing what you do best. I know it’s hard to hook up the IV for the tequila. I’ll work on that for you.

  This is for anyone who likes unusual gifts for their birthday. I’d take a ménage with Jake and Chase any day. Just don’t tell my husband.

  PRAISE FOR AUTHOR

  Mia Downing

  AND HER BOOKS

  SPY GAMES: TRAINED FOR SEDUCTION

  “WOW! Ms. Downing has created a world that I didn’t want to leave in TRAINED FOR SEDUCTION….Through tears, laughter, and sweat this first story in the Spy Games series contains everything you want in an erotic romance.”

  ~ L.T. Blue, Just Erotic Romance Reviews

  “I have read some amazing books lately, but this is the first one in a long time that has so completely blown me away.”

  ~ Christi Snow, Smitten With Reading

  SPY GAMES: LETHAL LIMITS

  “If you are looking for some smut-suspense with a great story, then you should definitely read LETHAL LIMITS—it will fulfill your need for the sexy spy world you crave.”

  ~Bookie Nookie, Bookie Nookie’s Reviews

  Spy Games: Birthday Games

  (Spy Games 1.5)

  “Kate wants to give you a threesome for your birthday.”

  Jake Anderson stared at his best friend and buddy, Chase Sanders, sure he’d grown a second head and someone had shoved it up his ass or something. But no, his dark and dangerous-looking friend sat behind his huge desk, playing with a paper clip, looking quite normal in the usual suit and tie combo the boss was supposed to wear.

  What married man told his best friend his wife wanted a threesome? They’d played together, once, and Jake figured as soon as Chase married his blonde bombshell wife she’d be locked up tighter than Fort Knox. But there Chase sat, looking comfy and relaxed in the new leather office chair, offering Jake a threesome.

  “Come again?” Jake wanted—no, needed—to hear the words again, just in case his daydreaming had put them there, in his best friend’s mouth. Kate was Jake’s partner and work wife, and there were times in their job as secret agents for an elite office gaining intelligence for the U.S. that they played married. Kate was everything a woman should be—more brains than a woman had a right to, the deadly combat and bomb-making skills to make evil men weep, all rolled into one tight, curvy body. But she was Chase’s, period. He wasn’t fucking with his best friend’s wife without permission.

  Chase snorted and reclined in his office chair, far too amused for Jake’s tastes. “You heard me. Just because you’re going to be thirty-five in a week doesn’t mean your hearing is going to pot.”

  Seemed like Jake was getting that permission slip mighty damned quick. He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry as bones—that never made sense to him, since all the bones he’d ever encountered were bloody and broken. “You want this, too?”

  “Hell, yeah. She wants in, you know I’m in.”

  Oh, God. “How in are you?”

  “It’s your birthday. Carte blanche. You can be hostess for the evening. I trust you.”

  “Jesus.” Jake broke into a sweat. He wiped his palms on his slacks, wishing he’d worn something more casual. Cooler than slacks and a dress shirt. Jacket. He didn’t do ties unless someone died or the general showed up. But it was a debriefing and briefing rolled into one, and he was seeing Tia later. “Hostess?”

  “Hostess.”

  Being the hostess meant Chase had just handed him Kate’s reins. In a big way, meaning, he could do whatever he wanted to her and Chase would follow Jake’s lead. There was nothing he wanted more than Kate bent over his lap, her ass blushed pink from a good spanking. Or Kate on her knees, submissive for him. Jake fought a groan. He would be in charge, and it spiked immediate applause on the dick meter.

  It also spiked a hell of a lot of fear, because Jake felt differently now. He couldn’t put a finger on it, but since he’d saved Kate’s life on that first mission of hers, something had changed. Yeah, Chase had been a jealous asshole, had gotten over it, and they’d played together in a mind-blowing ménage experience with Chase in charge. But this new feeling wasn’t about Chase—it was all Kate, and Jake had no name for this feeling other than it was dangerous. “You sure you’re still you? You haven’t been abducted by aliens, killed off and replaced with an android…”

  “You watch too many movies on those trans-Atlantic flights.”

  “You can’t blame me for being a bit cautious. You’re married. Do sane, married men offer their wives to their friend for their birthday?”

  “I guess I’m not sane.” Chase shrugged and chucked the paper clip at Jake.

  Jake caught it and tossed it back. “I never thought you’d share her once you got married.”

  “It’s different this time. Before, I knew she loved me. But now, she’s mine. Truly mine, all of her. I don’t have an issue sharing something that’s mine.”

  Chase was generous to a fault, for sure. Whatever Jake wanted or needed, Chase would have given it to him, right down to sharing his favorite gun, and now, his wife. He wasn’t so generous with the antique sports car, though. “You don’t share the ponies.”

  “I don’t trust what you’d do to my car. Not after what you did to that rental in Rome.”

  “That wasn’t my fault, man, and you know it. I doubt I’m going to be chased by criminals while I take the Shelby out for a joy ride.”

  “You set the rental on fire, Jake.” Chase glared. “On. Fire. You’re still doing the paperwork for that.”

  “It wasn’t drivable after those assholes shot holes in it, anyway.” It was his ass or the car, and he’d choose paperwork over a coffin anytime. Looking back, it was movie-cool, something his brother, Aaron James, would have done in one of his action films. Only it happened to him and Charlotte, for real, and Charlotte had thought it was the fucking coolest mission ever. Thank God, Kate had stayed home or he would have caught hell from Chase for involving his wife in the mayhem.

  Chase wasn’t stopping the glare, so Jake pointed out, “We got the bad guy.”

  “Yeah, because Charlotte’s a damned good shot, not because you’re keen with a lighter.”

  It had all been fucking magnificent, and now he was going to get a ménage for his birthday. What a way to end a tough month at the office. Jake couldn’t stop the w
icked grin that wanted to bust from him. “I’m going to set your wife’s ass on fire on my birthday.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s a lot easier to care for her pink ass than to deal if you scratch the paintjob on my car.” Chase couldn’t contain the half-smile. “She deserves spanking from what you’ve said about that surveillance run in L.A.”

  Yes, Kate did. “So you’re really game.”

  “Yep.”

  “You’ll owe me a birthday kiss,” Jake reminded, his grin even wider. He loved ribbing Chase about Paris, even if it was off-limits conversation. Best and worst cover job, ever, being Chase’s pretend gay lover. Chase couldn’t beat the shit out of him for picking on him here at work.

  “I’m not kissing you,” Chase muttered, his neck flushing red.

  “It’s my birthday, and I’m the hostess,” Jake reminded, just to be a pain in the ass about it, like he was every year. He didn’t like getting older, but he was respectful of the Paris boundaries—meaning, they didn’t talk about it, ever—all year long. If picking on Chase once a year around his birthday made getting older more enjoyable, then so be it. “I get her, I get you.”

  Chase arched a dark brow over inquisitive brown eyes. “You sure you’re not bi?”

  “Don’t think so, but you are hot.”

  Chase snorted and shook his head. “So you want to know where you’re going for a week before you go geriatric?”

  And with that, social time was over. Chase usually went into boss mode at this point, putting the mask of doom in place over his emotions, sealing out anything but professionally polite. It was what the man did best besides ruling the office with an iron fist and planning everything down to the minute detail. Only this time, the mask was unsettled, as if whatever this next mission had to deal with was too much for Chase to hide.

  Chase slid a file across the desk to Jake. It was marked with top secret coding, one not meant for Jake’s eyes in any way, shape, or form. He knew the coding well and had gotten his hand slapped more than once for delving where it shouldn’t. Chase could be fired at the least, jailed at the most for sharing this file. The idea set Jake a little on edge, yet that manila folder sat in front of him, beckoning to him, begging him to turn the page.

  Jake quelled the urge to rip into the file and instead glanced at Chase. “You sure about this?”

  Chase nodded. “Yeah.”

  Jake cautiously opened it and scanned the information, knowing the secrets inside wouldn’t make sense at first because whatever this was, it was in the beginning phases. He picked through, studying the satellite photos, the surveillance photos, the maps, the odd snippets of intelligence. Nothing big. Until he hit one wire-tap transcription and his blood ran ice-cold. He tapped the now-blurring words with this finger, hitting on the affiliation he dreaded. Sex trafficking, drugs, weapons…this group had done it all. “We killed this five years ago when we got Charlotte out.”

  “As you can see, things are brewing again. We haven’t seen hide nor hair of him yet, but it’s a matter of time.” Chase leaned forward and found a piece of paper at the back of the file. He shoved that one forward. “Look again. I need you to prove me wrong about this.”

  “You’re never wrong.” But Jake studied the emails printed out on the sheet anyway and prayed.

  They’d come so close to capturing the leader of this division. So damned close, but the choice had been to take him down or save one of their own. Charlotte Smith’s life had come first. The asshole had beat the shit out of Charlotte, almost killing her, and then stabbed Jake in the leg. If Chase had been with him, they would have gotten the prick. Case closed. But their jerk of a boss had sent Chase off on a wild goose hunt on the other side of London, despite being warned of the danger.

  Jake glanced at Chase, now the boss since the jerk had been fired three years ago. He was unearthly, statue still. That eerie stillness was a product of his past sniper and Special Ops training, and Jake wondered if Chase knew he went that still when disturbed or when he was on full alert.

  Chase’s gaze locked on his, and suddenly Jake felt what the stillness hid. The despair, the worry, the fear. Jake got it. The development of this group meant the chance of them losing it all—Charlotte, Kate, their lives. This wasn’t a job—it was personal. Chase’s eyes implored him to find a hole, something he’d missed, anything. From a man who lived to be right, the idea that Chase was practically begging Jake to prove him wrong was scary as hell.

  Charlotte’s endgame was starting.

  Jake sighed, broke eye contact to stare at the file. He shook his head. “You’re right, as usual.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Does Charlotte know?”

  “No, and I don’t intend to tell her at this time.”

  Jake snapped his head up. “Chase—”

  Chase raised a hand. “Hear me out. What’s the point in telling her the truth now? Things are quiet in her life, and this is no more than a blip on the radar. We don’t know if the asshole is back in business. We just know someone’s made contact. Nothing that needs to be shared yet. If we bring Charlotte in, we’ll have to tell her the truth. Are you willing to tell her the truth?”

  “She’s strong now.” But Jake doubted Charlotte would listen. She hadn’t wanted to know the truth, even when she was broken and half-dead. Now, she didn’t remember the truth. Her mind had blacked out the horrible pieces, and unfortunately, there were quite a few of those.

  Chase arched a brow. “You want to tell her? Be my guest.”

  Jake shook his head. He liked his balls and his life. Charlotte would have both if he told her.

  “So we agree. Charlotte knows nothing until the end, and only if we have to send her in. And we hope to hell she regains some of her memories about her past life or we’re fucked.”

  “You know this kills me, but yeah. I agree.” What choice did Jake have? Given Chase’s weird, sixth sense about intelligence and how the pieces would eventually fit together with so little proof, it made sense to wait to involve Charlotte. “You sense something more, don’t you? Stuff you’re not sharing?”

  Chase nodded. “I don’t understand where any of this is going, and there are parts that I can’t connect to this yet, but I know they’re all related.”

  “So what do I do?”

  “I want you to hit London and Dubai, see what you can find out. See who’s involved and maybe add a few photos and things to the file.”

  Half of Jake’s life was spent sitting, watching, and taking pictures. Thank fuck he was easily amused. “I can do that. Am I taking a partner?”

  “No, you’ll go alone. I’m going to send Kate with Charlotte for this week, and then God help me, next week she’s going with Steve.”

  “You didn’t have any say over that one, did you, buddy?” Steve Crazwalski was a hell of an agent but was just as bad of a man whore as Jake.

  “No,” Chase grumped. “Someone told Kate about Steve’s team skill and the fact that he loves model trains, and they’ve hatched this plan to make mini model explosions around his train set. She’s not taking no for an answer on this.”

  Jake groaned. “Kate would want to pick his brain for his creepy computer smarts.” The members of the team all had something special to offer. Jake was multi-useful, a good shot and sheer brawn and balls as well as brains. Charlotte took out the riffraff and cleaned up. Kate was their bomb and chemicals specialist and knew the most languages.

  Steve could make any computer sing. He knew how to get into a site, rig computers to get the information, then how to decode it all within the blink of an eye. The model train hobby—Jake actually thought that was cool, too, but Chase probably didn’t have cool toys as a kid. Probably only had little, toddler-sized guns.

  So why did Chase look like someone had kicked his sports car? “She’s not interested in Steve sexually, you know. She has you.”

  “I know.” But Chase still looked miserable.

  “Then what are you worried about, besides Kate losing a finger o
ver mini explosions?”’

  “Steve knows too much. About the club? And what we’ve done? What if he…shares.”

  Jake laughed at that. “Kate knows you weren’t a choirboy. She also knows you’re reformed. Hell, I’ve told her stuff that would definitely get my ass kicked by you.”

  Chase narrowed his eyes. “Like?”

  Jake pretended to think a moment as he made shit up. “That threesome with Monica from accounting over at the base and then how we—”

  “No!” Chase cringed. “She doesn’t need to look at every woman and wonder if we’ve fucked her, too.”

  Jake laughed, loving his discomfort. Chase wasn’t uncomfortable about much, and yet Jake had poked that part of him hard, twice today. “I’m just pulling your leg. I didn’t say anything. Honest.”

  “Yeah, well, remember I’m reformed. And next to my nearly pristine wife, with her tally marks of two, I feel like a whore.”

  “The best kind of whore, buddy. I love you for it.”

  “Shut it.” Chase’s expression turned sneaky, and the grin he shot was pure evil. “Rumors say you’re slacking off on the tally sheet. Anything you want to share?”

  “Nope. You keep me too busy to sample the club’s delights,” Jake lied. He had no idea why he didn’t want to share this with Chase, but he didn’t.

  Since Tia Richards had come into his life, Jake had been happy to stop adding notches to his bedpost. She was sexy as hell, into roleplay, loved kink, and more importantly, she didn’t want a relationship. She was a spy, too, for a different office and was out of town almost as much as he was, so it worked for both of their needs.

  They had agreed they didn’t need to be exclusive, either, so Kate and Chase’s ménage offering was fair game. It didn’t help, though, that Jake felt a little guilty about saying yes to Chase, like he was betraying Tia. He brushed that aside. Tia was out of town for the next two weeks, anyway. Between Tia and feeling weird about Kate, he was suddenly kind of leery about his birthday.